official launch to get under way. Jordan Luck sang the anthem Christchurch to open proceedings, (well, I'm led to believe it's an anthem - I'd never heard it before), and Tony Waine told us why he thought the project was important. The mayor of Christchurch, Garry Moore, then said a few words, before Ray inevitably seized the opportunity to say a few more words in front of the camera.
Devonshire teas were then offered, prompting an investigaion of the local plumbing on behalf of this column. And it was over. Well, the official part was over. I gave the still effervescing Ray a lift down to the bottom of Hackthorne Rd, (which excited Jan considerably to think that Ray Columbus' bottom had been sitting in her passenger seat), and drove to Sumner, where I had a lunch before going down to Minnie Bagoes for a sound check.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy says that a 'sound check' is musicians' code, somewhat akin to 'band meeting'. A sound check is supposed to be for the benefit of the the musicians as well as the sound crew, with the musicians getting to the venue at an appointed time and checking that their instruments have survived the tender ministrations of the roadcrew, as well as perhaps rehearsing a new song or two. In fact, it's a torture developed by the roadcrew to exact revenge on the band. The appointed time for the sound check is accurate to within a day. The sound of the bass drum is a priority and the vocal sound comes a very poor last. If there is time to rehearse anything, it's a miracle. If the sound guy is happy with the sound at sound check, it's axiomatic that it sounds like shit when the band starts playing, until everything is changed by the third or sixth number, depending on his or her competence.
So, nothing new then - except I didn't really know the guys I was playing with, and they didn't know the song I was singing. Luckily they were cool guys, with Alan Cattermole on drums, Tony Waine himself on bass, and Phil Jones and his son Elmore on guitars, and it was a pretty simple blues song I'd chosen to sing. (I Wanna Know). The only hitch came before we started and Phil's son's guitar wouldn't work for about five minutes, but once we got into it, it swung along OK.
The same band backed local heroes Jordan Luck and Simon Dark for their set, and they had the crowd eating out of their hands. Jordan in particular was revelling in the attention, and is the closest thing I've seen for a while to a regulation pop star. There's always been something different going on in the NZ music scene, and I think their peformance encapsulated at least one aspect of that difference.
Ray Columbus played his song using a backing track - after a bit of a chat, of course - and managed to engage the fairly disparate audience, but the big surprise of the night was the appearance of Pete Nelson and the Castaways. I used to go and see them quite a lot before they went to Sydney in about '65, and aside from looking older of course, they radiated some cohesive group identity perhaps missing from some of the other performances. (Mind you, I always thought that the Skye Boat Song was a pretty naff single, and it still sucks).
I nearly forgot. I didn't notice it at the time, but New Zealand has brought in the no smoking thing into pubs and clubs, and while there are obviously ongoing adjustments being made in the industry, the benefit was evident that night. Nobody enjoyed it any the less because of the absence of pervasive and invasive cigarette smoke that night, and most people - especially the musicians I would suggest - were extremely grateful. Bring it on!
Anyway, it was a fun night, and I had a much needed break from my usual routine. Many thanks to the Brittendens, of course, but also to Tony Waine and Thierry Pannetier for giving me the excuse to make the trip.